


Starlight Arriving Now Already Happened

by InsertSthMeaningful



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Charles Xavier Can Walk, Erik Lehnsherr Defense Squad, Erik Lehnsherr Needs a Hug, First Kiss, Force Bond (Star Wars), Hurt/Comfort, Jedi Master Charles Xavier, M/M, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Nightmares, Padawan Erik Lehnsherr, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 18:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30059676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertSthMeaningful/pseuds/InsertSthMeaningful
Summary: As Erik's Master, it is Charles' duty to comfort his Padawan and be there for him. That also involves holding his hand after a particularly bad nightmare - and not even the Force can help Charles predict how his growing (and completely unwarranted) attraction to his Padawan will come into play.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24





	Starlight Arriving Now Already Happened

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Mei-mei Berssenbrugge's [Wonder](https://poets.org/poem/wonder).

It was late in the night when Charles went to pass the door to his Padawan’s quarters, and a pang of grief that wasn’t his own shot through his chest. 

Sighing, he halted in his footsteps, trying to tamp down on the twisting in his heart. He had been meaning to turn in for the night, settling down in his bed with a good holobook and enjoying his lukewarm tea as he read a few pages. The ever-present humming of the city noises outside – Coruscant never really slept – and the gentle thrumming of the Force would have lulled him into an agreeable doze, one he would only have to break to put away his things, pull up his sheets and switch off the spine implant transmitting his brain’s nerve signals to his legs. 

Now, all this seemed unattainable. His Padawan was in distress, he needed Charles – and that always, _always_ took priority. 

Charles quietly set down his cup of tea on the hallway table, pulled back the sleeves of his heavy, flowing robe, and gripped the doorhandle. Then, very slowly, he pressed it down and pushed the door open. 

His Padawan’s room was swathed in a muddled sort of half-light. All was where it should be – the books on the bookshelf, the writing utensils on the writing desk, the clothes on the clothes-hangers peeking out from the wardrobe. 

Charles smiled. It was nothing short of ironic that the Force had bestowed the tidiest Padawan to have ever lived upon him – he himself already had trouble keeping his clutter to his own rooms. Any trailing mug of tea, any half-read book, however, was immediately eliminated by his Padawan if it dared encroach on their shared spaces in the kitchen, the living room, the library. 

People thought his Padawan was too quick to anger to ever make a good Jedi. Only Charles knew that deep within the boy, there lay a wellspring of serenity not even he would be able to equal if it ever came to fruition – the Force in its purest, most unadulterated form. 

Charles’ steps were muffled by the soft carpet as he stepped into the gloom of the room and made for the bed standing by the window. The blinds were half-drawn, allowing for the occasional flicker of a passing airspeeder to pour in, swallowed up by the twilight of the city as fast as it had emerged. Beneath the blankets, a solitary figure lay and breathed measuredly, seemingly sunk in deep sleep as they faced the window, their back turned to the door. 

Charles’ Padawan had always been a good actor. 

With a stifled groan, Charles sat down on the edge of the mattress by his Padawan’s shoulder. The tissue surrounding the implant in his spine was starting to itch and ache – a sure sign that he should turn it off, allowing his body at least a short break from the artificial intrusion in his nervous system. 

Pushing the issue to the back of his mind, Charles focused on the Force flowing and ebbing around him, and bent over his Padawan’s still form. 

The young man’s handsome face, bathed in a short flash of light every now and then when a vehicle passed outside, was suspiciously relaxed. At regular intervals, even puffs of breath slipped by his lips which were opened slightly, and the otherwise ever-present crease between his eyebrows had smoothed out. 

Charles fought back against the sudden, utterly inappropriate wave of desire which threatened to brim over from his mind into his Padawan’s. This was no time for such heresy, such perversion. He was meant to kriffing teach the boy, not lust after him. 

Breathing more measuredly, he _focused_. 

Every now and then, his Padawan’s cheeks flashed wet in the flickering light of the speeders zipping by outside. His lashes, long, delicate arches of black, were glued together, and his eyelids appeared swollen. Silvern tear tracks meandered over his tan skin, looking like they had been smudged by jittery hands only recently. 

A faint echo of gaping, all-encompassing pain bled over to Charles through the Force. 

He sighed. Gently – very gently – he laid a hand on his Padawan’s arm and softly called, “Erik.” 

For a few moments, nothing happened. Then, a tremor like an earthquake rippled through the body beneath Charles’ palm, and his Padawan’s face screwed up in sorrow as one single wet sob tumbled from his lips. 

“Oh, Erik,” Charles murmured as he began to ever so gently stroke the young man’s trembling back. “What did you dream about this time?” 

Hiccupping with repressed tears, Erik screwed his eyes shut and shook his head, his body curling away from Charles’ touch as he fisted the sheets between his fingers and pulled them closer to his chest. His ashen hair, looser now that it was slowly growing out of the traditional short-cropped Padawan style, fanned out over the pillow like a pale halo. 

Charles frowned. The tang of grief, of sorrow, tasted metallic on his tongue, the Force dancing erratically over his Padawan’s mind like the Flamewind of Oseon. 

“I sense great fear in you, my Padawan,” he said, his voice just loud enough to carry over the young man’s heaving sobs. 

Again, Erik shook his head frantically, attempting to speak and failing several times before he could calm his breathing enough to croak, “It’s noth- it’s nothing, M-Master.” 

“It’s hurting you, Erik,” Charles insisted, more forcefully than he had intended. His hand flexed against Erik’s back, before he gripped his Padawan’s shoulder tightly and turned the boy to face him. “It’s not nothing. Look at me, Erik. Look at me.” 

Slowly, like it pained him, Erik obeyed. He opened his eyes, swollen and bloodshot from crying, and his gaze flickered hesitantly to meet Charles’. The tears continued to flow, streaming down his cheeks unhindered as his chest heaved and fell with erratic sobs. 

Charles’ heart broke just a little at the sight. Life had not been kind to Erik. Born a slave on the island planet of Genosha, he had been separated from his family at an early age, his uncanny Force sensitivity making him the target of the Sith doctor Sebastian Shaw. 

While his parents and sister had toiled in Genosha’s fishing ports, Erik had grown into adolescence under Shaw’s scalpel and watchful, jealous eye. Only when Charles – still a fresh and cheeky Padawan back then – and his Master Lilandra Neramani had tracked down the Sith scientist and defeated him in a battle that had razed half a village, only then Erik had regained his freedom. Charles had been gravely injured in the fight and would have completely lost use of his legs had it not been for the wonders of modern science, and Lilandra Neramani had forfeited her status as Jedi Master to return to an existence as a Jedi Knight. 

Ever since, she lived in guilt over almost letting her Padawan be killed, but Charles could not bring himself to regret it much. Erik was worth it all. Even though the Jedi Council had been reluctant to accept an apprentice who had been in contact with the Dark Side already, possibly corrupted by their ways, Charles had fought until he had been allowed to take Erik in – take him into his life and into his heart, watch him grow up into a good, strong, gorgeous young Jedi. 

Charles had fought for his Padawan all those years ago. He would fight for him now. 

“Do you want to tell me what you dreamt-” He cupped Erik’s cheek and brushed away the tears with his thumb, a burst of excitement shooting through his chest as something akin to comfort rippled out from Erik and the young man pressed desperately into the touch- “or should I look for myself?” 

Blinking away the tears, Erik attempted to get his breathing back under control. Charles waited patiently, revelling in the press of Erik’s trembling back against his thighs, their bodies almost as close as lovers. 

Finally, Erik sucked in a big bout of air before he muttered, his voice staggering, “I dreamt- I dreamt that I h-hurt-” 

He broke off. Charles gave an understanding smile. “Who did you hurt?” 

Panic, followed by guilt, flared freezing hot through their Force-bond and almost took Charles’ breath away. With great difficulty, he kept his composure. 

This was not like all the nightmares Erik had had before. Those had been mostly recollections from the past – Shaw’s cruel hands, the cool cast-plast of the examination table under Erik’s bare, emaciated back, or his parent’s ear-shattering cries he had been able to sense from miles away. 

This, however, was new. This was so much worse. 

“I- Master, please. Please don’t be angry.” Now that the tears had petered out, Erik’s eyes were back to their cool, fierce fire, though it was still muted by an overwhelming mixture of emotions as he reached up, grasped Charles’ hand and squeezed it tightly. “I need you to _know_ that it was only a dream.” 

Charles nodded, speechless. Erik had his head turned so that his lips brushed Charles’ knuckles again and again, unaware that it sent sparks up his Master's arm and made his head spin, paralysing his tongue. 

“I dreamt-” Erik screwed his eyes shut tightly and ducked his head like in anticipation of a blow- “I dreamt that I hurt you.” 

The words made Charles’ blood run cold. His fingers shook ever so lightly as he raised his other hand from the bedspread to do- to do what? 

Erik, even with his eyes shut, winced. His fingers spasmed in their grip around Charles’ hand, and then a mutter, almost inaudible over the rushing in Charles’ ears, fell from his lips. Charles bent forward to catch it. 

“Master – I think I’m a monster.” 

“No. No, Erik, you’re not a monster.” Charles found his voice again in the blink of an eye, and he carded his fingers lightly through Erik’s hair before he tucked them under Erik’s chin and nudged his Padawan to open his eyes and look up at him. “There is so much good in you, I’ve sensed it. Don’t listen to what the Council says – just because you’ve been touched by a monster does not mean you are one.” 

Erik blinked, breathing raggedly as he gazed up at Charles and grasped his hand to his face. His pupils dilated, slowly but steadily eating up the grey-green of his irises. 

Charles’ breath stuttered in his throat. He did not know when their faces had gotten so close. 

“Master,” Erik breathed, and then he was leaning up, insistently pressing his lips to Charles’ and clutching his hand over his battering heart. 

All around them, the Force moved like an invisible ripple through space and time, making the earth moan and the stars sigh. Or at least it seemed so to Charles, enthralled by the infinite softness of Erik’s lips, the young, beautiful man’s heartbeat thrumming so close under his skin, so fast, so sweet- 

With a gasp, he tore away from the kiss and sat up, wincing when muscles around the implant in his spine contracted painfully. On the bed, Erik wore a dazed expression that quickly gave way to terror as he saw Charles look down at him with equal measures of confusion and surprise. 

His grasp on Charles’ hand slackened, and his cheeks flushed deep red in shame, visible even in the twilight of Coruscant’s night. Only now, as he drew the sheets up around his shoulders, did Charles notice that he had been sleeping without his pyjama top. 

They spoke at the same time. 

“Forgive me, Master, I did not mean-” 

“Erik, you’re lovely, but you know we Jedi can’t-” 

Erik shut up, awkwardly avoiding Charles’ gaze. Charles crossed his arms over his chest. 

“You know as well as I do that you _did_ mean it.” 

“You said I was lovely.” 

Charles sighed. “Go to sleep, Erik. It’s late. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” 

He moved to get up, but an iron grip on his wrist kept him where he was. 

Erik was looking up at him, his gaze so flayed open, so fearful it twisted something painfully in Charles’ chest. The terror of the dream still lurked behind his eyes, too fresh yet to have worn off already. 

Charles swallowed, struggling inside. What had been there between them ever since Erik had come of age – there was no denying it now – was indeed a fretful affair, a rotten desire that had no place in the hearts of those dedicated to the Way of the Jedi. 

But his Padawan needed him. He was scared, and lonely, and it was Charles’ duty to ensure that he would cease to feel that way. 

Avoiding Erik’s gaze, he settled back down and asked, “Do you need me to stay, my Padawan?” 

Erik nodded mutely. 

“Only until you’ve fallen asleep,” Charles conceded, sighing. “But I’m here for you, Erik.” 

“Thank you, Master,” Erik muttered, before he let go of Charles’ wrist and began to settle in for sleep. Inching across the mattress away from Charles, he turned onto his side, his back to Charles, and gripped tightly onto the pillow under his head. 

Charles watched him lay down, his attempt to ignore the elegant slant of Erik’s back and the outline of his ridiculously trim waist under the blankets woefully in vain. Yes, there were still traces of the scarred, lanky boy he had once been – but compared with what he had grown into, they were ridiculously negligible. Erik was a man now, so beautiful he attracted stares all over in the streets, so elegant a fighter that even the Jedi who had disapproved of him becoming a Padawan now valued him as a precious ally. 

Charles’ mouth felt dry, and suddenly, he longed for that cup of tea he had left outside in the hallway. These were exactly the thoughts he had been warned of his whole life since he had started to train as a Jedi. 

Erik’s voice cutting through the silence startled him out of his reflections. 

“Master?” Without turning his head, Erik quietly, hesitantly called out for him. “May I ask that you… hold me?” 

Charles ground his teeth. Today, it seemed, the Force was aiming to test him. 

But he toed off his slippers and swung his legs up onto the mattress, wincing once again when a trickle of discomfort emanated from the small of his back. Tamping down on the pain, he lay down with his chest to Erik’s back, taking care not to touch him as he propped up his head in his palm and pulled his other arm close to his chest. He found he wasn’t as glad for the many layers of his robes, the blankets and a healthy inch of air separating them as he should be. 

He did not expect Erik to nestle back against him until their bodies were pressed together from shoulder to toe without a hair’s breadth between them – or that he would reach behind himself to search for Charles’ hand and lace their fingers together over his chest. 

Erik’s hair tickled his chin. Nonetheless, he did not move away. Erik’s warm, slim weight against his chest was far too pleasant a sensation. 

“Thank you, Master,” Erik finally breathed, squeezing Charles’ hand one last time before he relaxed into the mattress. 

Charles smiled despite himself. “You’re very welcome, my dear Padawan. Sleep well.” 

He awaited no response, and he did not get one either. Soon, Erik’s breathing evened out, his grip on Charles’ hand slackening as he began to snore softly. This time, his lips fell open on their own accord. 

Very carefully, Charles reached behind himself and switched off his spine implant, finally allowing his sore nerve endings a reprieve. His legs numbed immediately, the tension leaving them, but he had arranged them so that they barely budged. Then, he gently slid his hand back into Erik’s. 

Charles’ heart soared as he lay down fully behind Erik, brushing a kiss to the tender skin at the juncture his Padawan’s neck and back. In his arms, Erik mewled softly, settling snugly against Charles’ chest. 

Suddenly, tomorrow seemed very far away. Charles had time – he would enjoy this moment, taking his time just holding Erik tightly before he would eventually have to get up and retire to his own bed. 

With this resolution firm in his mind, he closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet, clean scent of Erik’s sheets and Erik’s hair, smiling as he felt Erik’s heart beat slowly and steadily beneath his palm. 

The Force enveloping them both in a warm cocoon, Charles had drifted off to sleep before he knew it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and especially comments are much appreciated (:


End file.
